Final Farewells
by Tainaido
Summary: “Your candle’s burned out long before your legend ever will.” A post OoTP fic honouring Sirius' death, set in my Prophecy of Madness (WiP) universe. Inspired by Elton John's 'Candle in the Wind'.


A/N: Absolutely heart-wrenching to write. It's not easy to cope with, Sirius' death, as he was in the heart of many a reader. Here's my own tribute. If you like, review. If you hate, review. Critique is more than welcome!  
  
Final Farewells  
By Garak  
  
Harry looked down into his butterbeer, depressed, seemingly searching for something in his drink. He was sitting at a table beside Hermione, and opposite to Ron, in the Three Broomsticks. They were no longer at school, since it was the summer holidays, but all three of them had decided to return to Hogsmeade. They had invited Ginny, Luna and Neville, and all three of them were sitting at the same table, not making any sounds themselves. All could be heard was the chattering of content people around them. It was a saddening sight, six teenagers sitting around a table stuck in thought and the memories of what had passed.  
  
A few days ago, Albus Dumbledore had persuaded Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, that Sirius Black was not guilty of the crimes he was accused of. Peter Pettigrew instead earned the title of murderer, and Ministry Aurors were now hunting the right man, instead of the innocent. Dumbledore had constructed a memorial for Sirius immediately afterwards in front of the shrieking shack, in honour of what Sirius had done. He had laid down his life for others.  
  
A tear left Harry's eye to trickle down his face, although he made no effort to brush it off. He couldn't even talk, his entire body was numb with remorse, and his mind busy with memories..  
  
*** 'It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall: his body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backwards through the ragged veil hanging from the ach.  
  
Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his god-fathers wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind, then fell back into place.  
  
'SIRIUS!' Harry yelled. 'SIRIUS!''  
  
***  
  
He shook his head, attempting to escape from the pain, of having to watch the closest person he had to a father die.  
  
Suddenly he stood up on shaking feet, pushing his chair away from him, much to the surprise of his companions. Hermione gasped, and Ron started to look more miserable than ever. Harry cleared his throat, and looked around at the people in the pub, many of whom were looking at him with curiosity. .  
  
"I know many of you thought of Sirius Black as a murderer not long ago," he said, surprising himself with his daring. The statement was met with a collection of murmurings and nods.  
  
"I'm glad the truth was brought out a few days ago, and that so many have been quick to believe who had really been the cause of my parent's death. I always thought, if I could love Sirius, so could all you."  
  
Hermione looked up at Harry, her facial features portraying a forced, yet obvious, neutral expression.  
  
"I would also like to thank all of you. Even in death, Sirius would have been dishonoured if still branded a murderer. He didn't die for people to see him through a lie. He died for the good of others, and those others should see him what he really was," Harry said, having to afterwards brush another tear from his cheek.  
  
Harry looked around again, watching the nods of the many that agreed with him, and looking regrettably at the faces that didn't show even a hint of emotion.  
  
"Sirius had only been in my life for a few years, and was the closest thing I have had to a father for as long as I can remember. He helped me through the good and the bad, and was always there for me."  
  
"I don't believe in heaven, nor do I believe in God, but I can feel him watching over me, side-by-side with my dad. Sirius had always missed my father, had even tried replacing me with him. But Padfoot and Prongs have been reunited once more."  
  
"Would they play pranks in the afterlife? Would they have the fun they had all those years ago? Whatever they do, I know they shall watch over me, and the war we are surrounded by."  
  
"He was a hero, he had lived half of his life on the run, all because of a crime he did not commit. To stay strong in such a way is no small feat, even if it had ended in death. He was the strongest and bravest person I, and many others, knew."  
  
***  
  
''SIRIUS!' he bellowed. 'SIRIUS!'  
  
'He can't come back, Harry,' said Lupin, his voice breaking as he struggled to contain Harry. 'He can't come back, because he's dead..''  
  
***  
  
He lifted his half-empty glass of butterbeer, and held it at waist-height in his hand. "I would ask everyone to join me in a toast, to honour the man who sacrificed himself. To honour Sirius Black."  
  
He raised his glass high in his hand, to be followed by every single person in the pub. Not a soul had refused to partake, everyone had done their bit. They each had an expression of regret, yet they were also determined to honour someone they had wrongly accused.  
  
Harry looked around and smiled, the first time he had smiled in weeks. He looked down at Hermione, who looking up at him In admiration, and smiled down at her triumphantly.  
  
Luna sighed dreamily, and edged her chair closer to Ron. He looked up from his butterbeer and at her, shocked, but didn't move. Once close enough she merely laid her head on his shoulder, much to the bewilderment of her victim. Ron looked at her in shock, but managed to rally the energy to push her away. She didn't seem to take this as an affront however, quite the contrary.  
  
He grimaced, realising that he had done what he had not done before; made a speech in front of a room full of unfamiliar strangers. It's amazing how love and respect can inspire confidence, even in the most dire circumstances. Harry smiled, certainly having such confidence flowing through his mind.  
  
Harry looked up towards the sky, as though looking through the ceiling towards the heavens. Head buzzing slightly with disorientation, he clasped his hands behind his back, and made the first prayer he could remember.  
  
***  
  
'Padfoot," he thought, while his audience stared at him curiously. 'Your candle's burned out long before your legend ever will." 


End file.
